The heat continues. Today will be in the mid 80’s. It is a still day. Not even a single leaf is moving. We haven’t had rain. I’ll be watering the deck plants today.

The back door is closed because the AC is on so Nala rings the dreaded doggie bells wanting me to let her out. She has been out at least 4 times already. I let her out, let her in, let her out then in again. I swear if the door was open she’d be napping. This is a concerted effort to drive me crazy. She is succeeding.

In August in 1969, I was in the midst of Peace Corps training. We were student teaching in Koforidua. I was at a training college. I have sharp memories of that three week stay. I remember walking from the dorm to the dining hall and stopping to watch a moving column, wide and long, of ants. They carried leaves and flowers and an insect or two. I was mesmerized. For the first time during training, I was sick. I camped, sort of, in the bathroom. I needed to be close. I hitched to Accra one weekend and stayed at the Peace Corps hostel. I wandered the city. I survived an attempted purse snatching. I ate hummus for the first time. I visited the museum. I treated myself to a movie. It was Is Paris Burning?

My final week of training was after Koforidua. We stayed in dorm rooms at the University of Legon. We had real coffee every morning and mostly drank it outside where we sat and chatted. There were dancers and kente weavers. We were only a short distance, a twenty pesewa ride, about twenty cents, to the city. We went most evenings. During that week, we all took language exams. I remember sitting in a room with my language instructor and the tester who asked questions in Hausa like what my name is, where I was from, how I felt and what I liked to eat. I remember having to give directions in Hausa. The last event of the week was the swearing in ceremony. The ambassador had us repeat the oath of service after him. It was the same oath military recruits take which didn’t fit us. We complained but were told it was necessary especially if we wanted our settling in allowance, the money to buy whatever we needed at our sites. We took the oath. We became official Peace Corps volunteers. The most amazing two years of my life had begun.

The morning is hot already at 80°, but it is tempered by a strong breeze. I can hear the swishing of the oak tree leaves. I can also hear the morning songs of birds. We may have a thunderstorm or two later in the day. I’d like that.

When I was a kid, I went to mass every Sunday. I brought my missal. I still have that missal. Inside, in huge letters spread down the page I wrote my name. I used the missal to follow along. The mass was in Latin. The priest had his back to us. I got easily distracted. I’d bring a book and read it pretending if anyone noticed it was a holy book. I’d close my eyes as if I were praying. I liked standing in the back of the downstairs part of the church. I read the pamphlets. If I went upstairs to church on an early summer Sunday, the crowd was usually overflowing. I’d stand in the vestibule or even sit on the outsides stairs. I figured proximity counted.

I don’t remember being afraid of natural things when I was a kid. It was the man with the hook and his ilk who scared me. Noises in the night scared me. I’d look out the window hoping to see nothing. Sometimes I’d yell pretending to be brave. I never saw anybody, but that didn’t mean nobody was there. My sister was afraid of dragonflies, darning needles. She thought they could sew up her eyes and mouth. Bugs never bothered me.

My mother always loved to listen to music. She had a hi-fi before anyone else we knew had one. My father bought it using his bonus money. Her collection of records was heavy on the Frank Sinatra’s and the Tony Bennett’s. She also had all sorts of Christmas albums, some collections from Firestone and Grant’s. She would dance a bit around the kitchen when she was making dinner. I learned all the old songs by listening to her records.